


What I've Seen

by hycanthis



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: FOW POV, It's a list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hycanthis/pseuds/hycanthis
Summary: •	Cecil Palmer, ripping himself apart over what he should wear on his first date with the scientist. I told him to take the tunic. It was the one with the least mothballs.•	Jackie Fierro sitting on her couch, drinking orange juice. Forgetting her past.•	And you.





	What I've Seen

**Author's Note:**

> As always, critique very much appreciated--I want to know how my readers are feeling! Even if it's just feeling, in general.
> 
> (Also, my Latin's a bit off in this, but I guess that's what I get from using Google Translate!)

A list of what I have seen:

 

  * Old Woman Josie and her non-angels eating sugar muffins without the sugar. I took one and bit it, nodding at one of non-angels. I’m not afraid to acknowledge them, not really. Calling them non-angels is a habit of mine. A joke centered around the Sheriff's Secret Police.


  * I have seen Her crying, tears of stale molasses and rotting chrysanthemum petals. The air was stuffy (not that I needed it) and smelled of Earl Gray tea. Rotting petals floated to the ground. I waded through those pale yellow and withered leaves and touched the girl’s face. It was sticky. I licked the sickly sweet tears. The girl was crying.


  * Jackie Fierro sitting on her couch, drinking orange juice. Forgetting her past.


  * Sex.


  * A baby’s face. It was horrible.


  * An old woman rocking herself to sleep, murmuring the Latin lullaby of her grandmother. “ _Turbati sunt multo itaque animi dolore est, sed in pulvere emortuus fuerit papiliones_ ,” she rasps, curled in the dusty corner of her empty, ill-kept apartment. Her blue blind eyes stare in my direction. I waded through the dusty air and put a hand on the old woman’s sagging face, concerned. The old woman did not respond.


  * And you. I saw you from the front window. You’ve rotted, buried somewhere in your ex’s rose garden, never to be found yourself again. Well, unless you count the maggots. And me. But do I even count? ...Don’t bother responding. You’re dead.


  * Eggs


  * Moths


  * Tomatoes


  * Handmade shrine for the moths


  * Ah wait, this isn’t my shopping list.


  * Cecil Palmer, ripping himself apart over what he should wear on his first date with the scientist. I told him to take the tunic. It was the one with the least mothballs. He snorted in response, and told me that it didn’t match his pants. So I told him nothing he wears matches. Cecil Palmer ended up wearing the tunic.



**Author's Note:**

> Things I haven’t seen:
> 
> • My face.


End file.
